


Braid + Hair + Crystal Ball

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Prompt Fics [59]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Divergent, Comfort, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Set between season 3 and 4, Jack and Mac braid each other's hair.
Relationships: Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: Prompt Fics [59]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540795
Comments: 18
Kudos: 29





	Braid + Hair + Crystal Ball

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rai_Knightshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rai_Knightshade/gifts).



“Wait…are you braiding my hair?”

Jack’s laying on the couch, propped up by his elbow, his head fallen against the armrest. His fingers pause the twisting of Mac’s hair, his thumbs rub the soft strands against his forefingers that slide through his grasp as Mac twists his head around, setting down the book he was reading on the floor next to him. 

“Caught me red-handed, hoss. Or should I say…blonde…hair…handed,” Jack’s eyebrows waggle before he winks, his tongue sticking out playfully between his teeth. He chuckles softly as Mac runs a hand through the back of his head, disrupting the criss-crossed state of his hair.

“Can’t help it,” Jack drawls as he taps the top of Mac’s head, then dances his fingers down the length. “It’s just getting so _long!”_

“Yeah, I should probably get a hair cut,” Mac mutters, the hair is getting so long it’s almost reaching his shoulders.

“That or you could put it up in a man-bun. Or a small pony.” 

“Yeah, right,” Mac scoffs. 

“I’m serious! Not many people could pull it off, but you just might. Get you a pair of those hipster glasses to complete the look, _professor,”_ Jack teases, knowing all the details of Mac’s cover mission as a college professor, as part of a grand scheme dubbed “Operation Ordinary,” in which the team had gone undercover in day to day jobs as part of an effort for the Phoenix Foundation to lay low for a while.

“Laugh it up, old-timer. I might just follow in your steps and go bald.”

“Mm. Then I could rub that big brain of yours like the magic eight ball that it is.”

“I do gotta say…it always felt good to rub the fuzz on your head,” Mac smiles, tiling his head back to look at Jack. “You haven’t gone bald since…we got you back from Belarus.” 

“Yeah, I don’t do it that often, not any more. Between that and when we were going around the world in eighty days to find your dad, I haven’t shaved since I was in the CIA. With Diane.”

“I do imagine it’s gotta feel good, though, clean the slate, have a fresh start.”

“Used to braid Ri’s hair back in the day,” Jack muses as his fingers, now empty, twist into themselves. He heaves an abrupt sigh and stares into the rug on the floor. 

“And she let you?” Mac fully twists around to face his partner, with a smile on his face that slowly sinks as he sees a humorless expression on Jack’s face, a familiar one, filled with regret and guilt.

“Man…I really messed things up with her, didn’t I?” 

“What d’you mean?”

“She didn’t tell me about Billy.”

“She didn’t tell _anyone_ about Billy.”

“She told you.”

“Yeah, but…well, she just didn’t want you to worry. You were off chasing Kovacs, after all.”

“And then when I came back…I didn’t tell her. Didn’t tell anyone. ‘Xcept you, o’course,” Jack groans as he sits up on the couch. He claps his hands, the lights in the living room illuminate the remnants of the last three months, empty beer bottles strewn all over tables and shelves and knocked over on the floor. A whiteboard scribbled with ideas for movie crossovers that will likely never happen. Dirty clothes scattered over the chairs and couches, acting as makeshift pillars for improvised pillow and blanket comfort forts, because sleeping in Bozer’s empty room didn’t feel right, nor did sleeping in Mac’s bed without Mac at home.

“You went through hell and back, Jack. You needed time to heal before coming… _back_ back.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t necessarily have to become the hermit that I did.”

“I told you, you don’t have to do anything, not until you feel ready.”

“I know. I think…I think it’s time, though. Time to get out and stretch these legs,” Jack stands up from the couch, stretches out his body, standing on the tips of his toes as he reaches for the ceiling. He stumbles to the bathroom, Mac follows closely behind him, leaning against the door frame as Jack washes his face in the sink. 

He only recognizes Mac, and barely just with the long length of his golden hair. But he can barely even recognize himself, a scraggly beard and dark hair that falls past his ears, almost to his shoulders. 

“Maybe I should consider a haircut myself,” Jack contemplates, picking up the “improved” razor on the counter. 

“Maybe you should, but…” Mac walks towards Jack, and Jack watches as he raises his hands, and Jack feels the gentle tug of Mac’s fingers pulling on the back of his head, drawing inward to each other and he realizes Mac was now braiding his hair. “I want to see what all the fuss is about.” 

“Making me feel like a real princess over here,” Jack snorts. 

“Love you, too, Jack.”

“Hey…Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

“Hey, man, you scratch my back, I scratch yours. You braid my hair, I braid yours. You go kaboom, I go kaboom. No matter what, whether we’re saving the world or coping with traumatic situations, we’re in this _together.”_

Jack spins around, and without another word, cups the back of Mac’s head in the palm of one hand and pulls him, their lips meet as loose strands of their hair sweep against each other in the sudden force of their heads locking into each other. Mac brings his hands from Jack’s hips up to his head, grabbing his cheeks and holding him in place as Jack pushes Mac back against the wall. Once Mac’s back is supported, Jack moves his hands to the back of Mac’s head, and his fingers once again get to work on braiding Mac’s hair.

“Seriously–-Jack–-?” Mac asks between two smooches.

“What can I say, Mac, you got paperclips, and I got your hair.”


End file.
